


Tell Me You've Had Enough (My Dear We Still Have Everything)

by crossroadswrite



Series: Howls From Last Night [10]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Beta Derek Hale, Breaking Up & Making Up, Derek Hale's Self-Worth Issues, Happy Ending, Injured Derek Hale, M/M, Misunderstandings, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Texts From Last Night, but you know me always some mush in there, what is up with me and this angst lately srsly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-25 22:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4978144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/pseuds/crossroadswrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>(952): What's the best day of the week to potentially find out you're pregnant with your ex's baby?</b><br/><b>(+44): He's so in love with you that you could fuck a blood relative and he'd be like "I just want you to be happy"</b><br/>.<br/>“So,” he starts, pressing his lips together like he only does when he’s trying really hard not to cry. “What’s the best day of the week to potentially find out you’re pregnant with your ex’s baby? Because I feel like Thursday night sucks as a day to find that out.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from ['Just Give Me a Reason' by P!nk ft Nate Ruess](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OpQFFLBMEPI)

“Stiles?” Allison raps her knuckles on her bathroom door, keeping the knock as light as she possibly can not to startle him. “Stiles, are you alright?”

“Fine,” Stiles’ voice calls out, muffled by the door and sounding definitely not okay.

“Can I come in?”

“No!”

“Stiles.” She hears some scrambling on the other side, something clinking into the sink. “Stiles don’t think I won’t kick down my own bathroom door.”

“ _Fuck_.”

There’s some shuffling on the other side, the key clicks when it turns and Stiles peeks out at her.

“So,” he starts, pressing his lips together like he only does when he’s trying really hard not to cry. “What’s the best day of the week to potentially find out you’re pregnant with your ex’s baby? Because I feel like Thursday night sucks as a day to find that out.”

“Oh hon,” she sighs, pushes the door backwards and hugs him, a hand soothingly running down his back as Stiles crumbles.

«»

Omegas are a rare delicacy, you could say.

Omegas are something to be appreciated, savored slowly.

Omegas are for the higher class only.

Omegas are fetishized by douchebag alphas who think they’re tough shit because their dicks grow a knot, and betas who hate their dicks because they don’t. Exactly like the ones Stiles has to put up with on a daily basis, _lucky him_.

“Can I buy you a drink?” a cocky alpha wearing too much Axe slides up next to him on the bar, elbow perched on it and sniffing at Stiles so obviously Stiles has to suppress the urge to punch him in his face.

The bartender snorts, covers it with a cough and continues cleaning up a glass with intense focus.

Stiles smirks at him, raises an eyebrow that he hopes he expresses _can you believe this guy_ and not _I’m doing the eyebrow rain dance_.

“It’s an open bar I get my drinks for free.”

“Pretty thing like you must always get his drinks for free. I bet you never had to pay for a drink in your life with an ass like that.” He leans closer and reaches for Stiles.

Something lands hard on the table between them, barely missing the guy’s hand.

“Your drink, sir,” the bartender says in a monotone.

The alpha turns a glare at him, lips curling over his teeth in a snarl. “I didn’t ask for a drink.”

Bartender raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t you. Oh my bad,” he says sounding completely unapologetic

“Listen here you piece of shit _beta_ -“

Stiles knocks the glass over, making sure it tips all over the alpha.

“Oh, oh gosh, I’m so sorry,” Stiles says without any inflection. “Clumsy me, you’ll _have_ to forgive me, after all I’m just a ditzy little omega, right?”

“You little-“

“Is there a problem here?” CEO Hale approaches, chin tilted high and looking down on all of them.

The guy backtracks so fast Stiles almost lets out a snort.

“Um, no. No problem.” He looks down nervously, tugs a little on the sleeve of his jacket. “Now if you’ll excuse me I have to get cleaned up.”

Stiles wiggles his fingers at him and quirks his lips in the mockery of a smile.

Laura Hale sighs and rolls her eyes to the primly decorated ceiling above. “Why do you always have to get in trouble?”

Stiles opens his mouth to answer, cheeks flushing with shame and a little bit of righteous anger because _that was not his fault_. Okay, maybe that was a little bit his fault but it’s not like the guy wasn’t a total douche. But before he can say anything the bartender answers for him.

“Must be in the genes,” he snipes and picks up another glass to start cleaning.

Laura Hale rolls her eyes, a small smile playing on her lips. “Don’t think so, little brother. You’re definitely the most troublesome out of all of us.”

Stiles looks between them and doesn’t interfere, watching his boss and the cute bartender he’s been hanging around all night because a) he’s really cute and b) he never once made a come on to Stiles, only answering when he was talked to and flushing at the tips of his ears adorably.

“I’m trouble _prone_ if anything. You’re the troublesome one. Also why mom loves Jamie best.”

“Everyone loves Jamie best. He’s one of the only members of this family who isn’t a shithead.”

“True.”

Laura grins and knocks on the wood of the bar. “Gotta go schmooze, little brother. Don’t get into any more trouble tonight.”

“Huh-uh.”

She smoothly hops off the bar and disappears into the crowd leaving Stiles and dreamboat alone once more.

Stiles sighs a very weary sigh of the defeated and pushes his glass a little forward. “Hit me up.”

Bartender raises a judgmental eyebrow which bartenders are _not_ supposed to do and asks, “Are you driving?”

“I was thinking about hailing a cab?”

He shakes his head once. “No more then.”

“It’s an open bar dude. You can’t deny my free drinks.”

“Don’t call me dude, it’s Derek and _watch me_.”

Stiles laughs, leans forward with his elbows on the bar to get a little bit closer. “Well, _De-rek_ , how else am I supposed to drink away my woes.”

“In the privacy of your house, hopefully with the door locked or in the company of a friend.”

Stiles should frown but it’s a harsh reality. It’s not safe for omegas to be drunk out on the street. There’s enough alphas with bad intentions for it to be a suicide mission.

“Are you not going to ask me what my woes are?”

“I could, but I don’t really care.”

Stiles grins wider, licks his lips and watches Derek’s eyes track the movement before snapping away harshly almost self-flagellating like a Christian found with his hand down his pants.

“Well aren’t you lucky that I’m feeling like sharing tonight. So I met a pretty cute guy earlier.”

A muscle in Derek’s jaw ticks slightly, before he seems to smooth it off.

“He’s pretty cool. Pretty eyes, cute bunny teeth, nice _everything_.”

Derek blinks at him, a little startled, starting to flush a little bit.

“I’ve been kind of flirting with him, but he seems pretty oblivious to it and to top it all off he’s my boss’ little brother so. Problematic situation right there.”

Derek opens his mouth and breathes out, blush high on his cheeks, catching his ears and crawling down his neck adorably.

“I’m, uh- I mean,” he clears his throat awkwardly and sets the glass he had been meticulously cleaning down. “Laura is a very professional woman.”

“Really?” Stiles asks, not sure where Derek is trying to go with this.

“So if, hypothetically, any member of her family were to date with a member of her staff she would not treat them in any way differently.”

Stiles grins. “Really?”

“Really,” Derek confirms.

“So, hypothetically, if I were to ask you on a date?”

“I’d, hypothetically, say yes.”

Stiles hums, picks his glass up and waves it in front of Derek.

“Make you a deal,” he starts. “You give me one more drink, we can flirt some more until your shift ends and then you can drive me home, kiss me on the cheek and call me tomorrow to tell me where you want to go for our date. Sound good?”

Derek does this thing with his face that is just downright insulting. The corners of his mouth pull into this tiny little smile he’s so secretly pleased with something and his eyes crinkle slightly in the corners making that little smile all that much sweeter.

And then to add insult to injury he nods his head once, picks his glass up again and starts cleaning, says, “Sounds perfect.”

And that’s how it starts.

«»

“Are you sure that you’re-“ she asks, bites her lip not looking up from where she’s slowly stirring the cocoa in the mugs. Stiles does better in a conversation like this if you’re not staring him down.

“As sure as three store bought tests can be.”

Allison taps the spoon on the rim of the mug twice to shake the cocoa off and sets it on the counters, hands wrapping around the warmed ceramic and turning to set one in front of Stiles.

“You should go see a doctor.”

Stiles sniffs at the mug and takes a small sip, presses it to the center of his chest.

“I don’t like doctors.”

“You have to.”

Stiles presses his lips together in distaste. Most doctors are alphas and a lot of those alphas tend to be douchebags towards omegas. Their society has evolved enough for omegas not to have to be constantly accompanied by their alpha but not enough for some people to think omegas should have agency over their own body.

“You can go to Lydia.”

“She’s not an obstetrician.”

“She’s your friend. She’d find the time to look you over.”

Stiles shrugs a shoulder. “Yeah.”

Allison presses her lips together, feels her forehead wrinkle with concern. She knows what she has to say next but it’s such a delicate issue she doesn’t want to disrupt whatever peace Stiles managed to find for himself in the last two weeks.

He’s gone quiet since the breakup. There were a couple of days there he didn’t talk at all, just stared unseeingly at people being indiscriminately slaughtered on TV.

It broke everyone’s heart when those two broke up. They were so good for each other, they were _everything_ for each other, one of those couples that you can see growing old together and sniping at each other in the front porch as their grandchildren ran around in the front yard.

«»

After the start there’s the middle.

Stiles taps his thumb twice against the back of Derek’s hand, calls his attention back from where Derek had been perusing a bookshop display.

Derek turns to him, and it takes him barely two split seconds for a smile to crinkle his eyes in response to how Stiles is probably smiling like a complete moron.

“Hey,” Derek says, quiet and content as one can be.

“Hi,” Stiles says, taps his thumb against the back of Derek’s hand, squeezes their fingers together and completely forgets what he was about to point out so he tilts his head and puckers his lips, asking for a kiss that Derek willingly dotes on him.

Stiles pulls back and almost has to hide his face in Derek’s neck when the overwhelming feeling of contentment overtakes him, making him weak at the knees. Or maybe that’s all on how Derek kisses him, like Stiles is warmth and he’s hypothermic.

“Want to get out of here? There’s an ice cream parlor across the street,” Derek offers, the tips of his ears slightly red like he’s dirty talking Stiles and not offering to buy him ice cream.

“Yeah. Sounds cool,” Stiles grins. “ _Literally_.”

Derek snorts and starts tugging him away and into the ice cream parlor across the street with its brightly colored umbrellas and the loud children and gaggle of teenagers hanging outside, dripping cones in their hands and bright flavours over joy.

Someone roughly bumps into Derek’s shoulder as they pass by and Stiles starts tensing up, wishing for this not to turn up like one of those days, _please_ he had been having such a good time, don’t let it turn into one of those days.

“Hey watch it,” the alpha growls and he can see how Derek’s shoulders draw in a little.

“Just ignore it, babe,” Stiles says lowly and tugs on his hand, trying his best to keep his smile bright and sunny.

Derek visibly rolls his shoulders to let the muttered insults roll right off his back and continues with Stiles towards the counter.

Stiles knows it gets to Derek, how some alphas are such extremists in their beliefs that they think Derek being with an omega is something vile, that he’s _stealing_ what’s rightfully theirs, hurling insults like _unworthy, useless, could never make him happy what an omega needs is a knot, can’t even get him pregnant and what good is an omega for if he can’t be bred, waste of space._

It gets to him that he might not be enough for Stiles and it’s a struggle to keep those thoughts away. The struggle against deep ingrained self-consciousness and self-esteem problems isn’t a battle Stiles can win or fight for Derek.

Stiles leans over and kisses his cheek, lingers there and it’s as much of a claim as any biting mark an alpha can give to his omega could be.

“I’m feeling chocolate chip mint and white chocolate?” he says, lets go of Derek’s hand to press against his side like some clingy child.

Derek wraps an arm around him and lets out a shuddering breath like he’s just steadying himself after a rough climb.

“Strawberry. Can’t go wrong with strawberry.”

He turns and brushes his lips over Stiles’ cheekbone, feather light.

“You heathen,” Stiles laughs and turns to the guy behind the counter who stinks of omega and wonder when he sees them, curiosity spiking in his scent.

Stiles gives him a grin and a wink as they order their ice creams and makes several inappropriate jokes about balls while the kid scoops them up.

Derek is biting back laughter, cheeks going red to match his ears, in almost no time. Especially after Stiles accidentally bumps his cone against Derek’s cheek and licks it off.

It’s not a perfect middle, it’s mostly bittersweet, stained by societal norms and pressures that threaten to crack them, but it’s still theirs and it still works. Until it doesn’t.

«»

Allison reaches out and puts a careful, gentle hand on Stiles’ knee, bracing herself as much as him for the next words she’ll have to say.

“You need to tell him.”

“No.”

“Stiles.”

“No, absolutely not.”

“He deserves to know.”

“He broke up with me, he doesn’t- he doesn’t want this.”

“You can’t be serious,” she huffs because how can he _not_ see it. She thought he knew.

“He loves you.”

“He doesn’t-“

“He _does_. He’s so completely and utterly in love with you that he would sacrifice his happiness for yours. He’s _so_ in love with you that you could fuck a blood relative and he’d just be like ‘I just want you to be happy’. That’s how much he loves you.”

Stiles shakes his head. “No. No, I hurt him. Our relationship was hurting him and he just didn’t think we were worth continuing for.”

 “You’re wrong,” she tells him. “You’re wrong and you need to call him, because this is stupid. You’re miserable and he’s miserable and you’re freaking _mates_. Everyone can see it.”

“I’m not- I’m not because he _said so_.”

«»

Derek comes back to his apartment just as Stiles is finishing up setting everything for their weekly dinner.

He limps through the door, lip split and clutching at his side where claws have pierced through his skin and blood stained his light shirt.

“Derek!” Stiles cries when he sees him, hurrying to his side. “What happened?”

Stiles throws one of Derek’s arms over his shoulder and carries him to the bathroom to get cleaned up.

“What do you think?” Derek grunts, gingerly peeling his shirt from his still open wound.

“I’m sorry,” he says and helps him take his shirt off, throwing the unsalvageable piece of cloth into a corner of the bathroom, fingers careful over Derek’s wounds.

It’s not the first time this happened, but it’s normally not so bad.

Derek braces his hands on the rim of the bathtub and curls forward slightly. “I can’t do this anymore,” he breathes out.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll call my dad tomorrow. We can go down to the station and see what we can do about-“

“No,” Derek cuts him off and it’s not loud but it is forceful. “No I can’t- _look at me Stiles_ ,” he begs and Stiles does, takes in the slowly healing cuts, the split lip and the way Derek’s shoulders hunch like a small child expecting to get hit again for something bad they did. His eyes flash, beta gold at Stiles. “Is it really worth it?”

“I- I thought-”

“You can do better than this, Stiles,” Derek shakes his head and leans back and away from Stiles’ touch.

He’s right. He’s right and Stiles can’t believe he’s been so incredibly selfish in keeping Derek when it’s been hurting Derek so badly all along.

Without noticing he takes a step backwards, swallows roughly and feels something burn hot and unforgiving all the way down his throat.

“You’re right,” he croaks. “You’re- I don’t-“ He needs to take a second, eyes still roving over Derek. “ _Look at you_ ,” he says unbelieving of what he’s caused just because he didn’t let Derek go soon enough.

Derek curls like he’s been punched again and Stiles’ back hits the frame of the bathroom door.

“I’m sorry,” he pleads.

“It’s okay,” Derek says, barely a whisper, voice sounding distant and detached. “It was bound to happen anyway.”

Stiles has been slapped across the face before and this feels a lot like it.

Those words are what makes this incredibly, unbearably real because of course Derek wasn’t seeing this as something long term.

Here had Stiles been, ready to ask Derek to maybe move in and picking the eventual color scheme for their wedding and here had been Derek not invested enough, getting _hurt_ for Stiles.

Stiles is being selfish again, because how can he blame Derek for not being invested when he’s getting hurt. How could he-

He turns around and leaves, doesn’t say another word. Drives straight to Allison’s house with the last of his thrown up heart staining his over worn sneakers.

And that’s how it ends.

«»

Allison shakes her head because no, that’s not actually what happened.

Stiles had never told her why it was exactly they had broken up, so obviously Allison went to look for some answers, and it was almost too easy to get Laura Hale’s contact information and hear from her what was happening with Derek.

“ _You need to talk with him_ ,” she reiterates. “Because that’s not what Laura told me when I asked her why you two had broken up.”

“What?”

“I called her, after, because you wouldn’t tell me. She said Derek told you he wasn’t good enough for you and you agreed and left.”

“What!” Stiles says, tone going high and shrill and startled. “That’s not what happened. That’s not what happened at _all_.”

“You need to go talk to him, Stiles.”

Stiles sighs out and seems halfway convinced to go do it.

“Stiles, you know I love you, right. You’re the brother I never wanted and I would do anything for you, but you’re hurting yourself with this and you need to go over and talk with him. And if you don’t I’m tattling on you to Lydia.”

Stiles squints. “You wouldn’t.”

“We both know I would.”

Stiles sets his mug down, leans forward with both hands still wrapped around it as if grounding himself a little, breathing in strength through the steaming cocoa.

“You love him, and he doesn’t think you do.”

“Loving him was hurting him.”

“Not being with you is hurting him too. Trust me, I have a very reliable source. And you should let him choose. You can’t make this decision alone, let him decide if loving you is worth getting hurt over and if it is, well, I have more than a few weapons at my disposition. We can cut the problem by the bud. Or the knot. Whichever is more adequate.”

Stiles gives her a smile.” This is why I love you, Ally A.”

She dimples at him and gets up, taking both their mugs into the sink, laying a kiss on Stiles’ hair as she goes.

“Also if you have a baby and I’m not their godmother…” she trails off, smile in place because she damn well deserves to be the godmother of a child.

“Promise,” Stiles laughs a little and gets up, hugs Allison before he turns to the door.

«»

Derek’s building doesn’t have an elevator, which had never been a problem before. Whenever Stiles didn’t feel like climbing stairs he would just splay himself over Derek’s back and demand to be piggy back carried, rewarding him with kisses all the way up when Derek eventually obliged.

Now he’s standing at the bottom of them, feeling the same wave of nausea that seems to cling to him some mornings and three flights of stairs look more like climbing the Everest.

Stiles takes a deep breath, curls a hand on the railing to make sure no accidents happen and starts climbing the stairs, two at a time.

When he reaches Derek’s door he has to make a conscious effort not to throw up, when a blonde bombshell opens the door he rethinks his effort and decides that throwing up on her wouldn’t be such a horrible thing.

“Who the fuck are you?” she asks.

“Who the fuck are you!”

“I asked you first,” she mutters, a smile curling on her lips.

“I asked you seconds,” Stiles says, childishly, necessarily. And then, “Ohgod,” he wheezes and pushes her aside, power walking to the bathroom and throwing up his breakfast into the toilet bowl.

He wipes his mouth to the back of his hand and gets up, a little unsteadily. When he raises his eyes all the scary Hale women are staring him down. _Lovely_.

“Um, hi?”

Laura squints dangerously at him, curling her lips over her teeth.

Cora looks like she’s weighting the pros and cons of soiling Derek’s bathroom with Stiles’ innards and Sam looks ready to shove every sharp thing within her reach down and up some very uncomfortable places. The blonde girl is there too, standing by Derek and wiggling her sharp nails at him.

“Is there any chance I could talk with Derek without being maimed?”

Laura growls.

Stiles sighs, and decides that if he’s going to do this he at least deserves the dignity of not smelling like an hangover college kid. He turns to the cabinet, grabs the mouthwash and makes use of it. Cocoa doesn’t taste nearly as good when it comes back up.

“What are you here to do, Stiles? _Gloat?”_ Sam starts, and her eyes flash so dangerously Stiles takes a step back.

And then her words register. “Wait what? Why would I-“

“You’re pregnant,” Laura states.

“You don’t know that.”

“You reek of it.”

Stiles steadies himself on the wall because wow. Alright so he’s really pregnant. _For real pregnant._ With a kid. In his tummy. Alright.

“Guess I don’t need to go to the doctor’s then.”

Laura roars and he flinches, looks down and away, almost bares his throat when a deep rooted instinct kicks in.

“You’re a real piece of work you know. To _come here,_ after what you’ve done to my brother-“

“Wait what?”

“-and gloat you got some alpha to knock you up. I never thought you would.”

“What,” Stiles says again, flatly because is she serious.

“You probably cheated on-“

And that’s about it. Stiles grabs the nearest toilet paper roll and lobs it at Laura Hale because fuck that noise.

And then he picks another one up because Derek is a weirdo that keeps all the toilet paper near the toilet and does it again.

“Fuck you, first of all. Second of all, _what the fuck are you talking about?_ Your brother broke up with me, _and_ I haven’t slept with anyone else in _forever_ so what the actual fuck.”

“You’re pregnant,” Cora tells him like he doesn’t already know. “And Derek is a beta, betas can’t impregnate omegas.”

Stiles stops because are they serious?

“Seriously?” He turns to Derek who’s looking at the floor like everyone just punched all of his kittens. “Ohmygod,” he says incredulously. “ _That’s a myth!_ That’s fucking propaganda you morons.”

“What,” Laura says.

“What?” Derek perks up, hope filling his voice so thoroughly that it breaks something in Stiles’ heart.

He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. “Pro-pa-gan-da. Alphas want everyone to think that only they can get omegas pregnant so omegas who want babies invariably have to pick an alpha mate. Which is _bullshit_. The only difference between alpha sperm and beta sperm is how much of it comes out of their dicks.”

They all just blink at him for a couple of seconds, processing that information.

“But you broke up with him right?” Sam tries to confirm.

“He broke up with me.”

“You set his table on fire.”

Stiles frowns. “No I didn’t.”

“Yes you did.”

“No, I di- wait.” He turns to Derek. “Did you just sit in the bathroom brooding after I left? Didn’t you see the candles burning on the table? What the hell?”

“Why were there candles on the table?” Cora demands.

Stiles sighs, uncrosses his arms and scrubs at the back of his neck. “I was going to see how well he’ react to the idea of moving in. And if he didn’t like it I’d just distract him with food.”

The Hales women look at each other before slowly and scarily in synchronization turning to Derek.

If the way Derek winces is anything to go by they don’t have the friendliest of faces on.

Laura actually reaches out and smacks him upside the head.

“Derek what the fuck?”

“I- I didn’t- I thought-“

“You thought wrong,” Sam tells him and punches him on the shoulder. “And you’ve made me waste my time. I had a date I had to cancel to listen to you cry on your throw pillows.” She turns to the other girls and declares, “All in favor to let Derek handle his own shit from now on say _aye_.”

“ _Aye_ ,” they all agree and walk out of the loft, throwing faint apologizes and waves at Stiles as they go.

Derek and Stiles stand there looking at each other until the front door slamming shut startles both of them into action.

Derek takes a step forward into the bathroom, carefully, cautiously.

Stiles wonders why they’re doing this in the bathroom but it somehow feels right, it feels like symmetry.

“You were going to ask me to move in?”

His expression is heartbreaking, like he accidentally stepped on something precious and broke it into a million pieces.

Stiles rubs his fingers down his pant legs. “Yeah, but then you got home and you were hurt. Again, because of me, and you were right. Being with me is not worth you always getting hurt like that but Alli-“

“That’s not what I meant.” Derek takes a step forward, hands twitching like he wants to reach out and barely stops himself. “I meant- I meant it wasn’t worth to- to date me. There are people out there that could offer you so much, Stiles and you-“

“Like who? _Alphas_ ,” he snarls and almost feels bad when Derek flinches. “I don’t want an alpha or another beta or whatever the fuck you think I need. I won’t want anyone else.”

Derek is quiet for a moment, so Stiles soldiers on.

“But I’ll understand if I’m- if you don’t want to-“ He looks down, trying to put into words how he’ll understand if he’s too much of a handful for Derek, but doesn’t get a chance before warm fingers touch his cheek, tilting his head up.

“I’m an idiot, I’m sorry,” Derek says so quietly, barely a breath out of his lips.

“You are,” Stiles tells him and sways forward, one hand snagging the bottom of Derek’s shirt for support. “And next time you try to pull something like this I’ll punch you.”

“I’ll let you,” he promises and then leans in and kisses Stiles on the forehead like an apology.

Stiles closes his eyes and breathes out, leans forward and presses his lips to the corner of Derek’s mouth like absolution.

When they pull back they look at each other like a second chance, very carefully lean in, almost experimentally, and press their lips together, tasting love on each other.

And there they stand in the bathroom light, clinging to each other, relief pressing down on their shoulders and pushing them together like north and south poles of two magnets, like their pull for each other is just another law of nature.

This is not their start or their end or their middle. This isn’t a book, this is their life, so if anything this would be their epilogue, their everything they’ll have that’s yet to come. This is their own.

This is all the work they’ll have to do that no one will hear about, and all the joy they’ll share that only their friends will get to touch the edges of.

This is them, this is having each other, this is everything.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone prompted me to write more of this with their kid so I wrote PTA meetings and shenanigans.

Allison taps her foot on the carpeted floor impatiently, glancing at the door every five minutes.

“I’m sorry,” she says to the woman in front of her, offering her nicest smile. “I’m sure she’ll be just-“

The door to the class room burst open and Erica comes strutting in, all sharp smiles and sharper nails.

“Sorry I’m late, I got caught up on the way here.”

Allison gives her the stink eye and feels her lips get a little tighter in the corners, her smile cracking.

“Right,” the woman in front of them nods. “Now that both parents ar-“

“We’re not Jacy’s parents,” Erica interrupts. “We’re her godmothers.”

The teacher blinks, takes a moment to digest that. “Her… godmothers?”

“Yes,” Allison confirms, that little ball of satisfaction she gets whenever it’s acknowledge she has a little goddaughter curling up in her stomach like a sleepy kitten.

“Couldn’t the parents of the child come?”

Erica and Allison exchange a glance.

“You’re new here aren’t you?” Erica questions.

The teacher straightens a little in front of them, holding her chin high. “Yes, I don’t see why that’s-“

“They’re banned from PTA meetings until Jacy goes to middle school,” Allison explains.

“Banned?”

“Banned,” Erica smirks.

“ _How?”_

“Well there was the glitter incident,” Allison starts.

«»

“Mr. Stilinski, Mr. Whittemore, please calm down,” the teacher pleads. “We’re trying to solve your kids behavioral issues, not your own.”

“ _Behavioral issues_ ,” Stiles exclaims, sounding thoroughly offended. “This douchebag’s kid pulled _my_ kid’s pigtails. What Jacy did was completely justified!”

Derek squeezes his knee in quiet support, glaring daggers and Jackson Douchemore and his wife sitting in the tiny chairs opposite to them.

“Your _brat_ shoved an entire tube of glitter down my kid’s pants,” Jackson growls.

“Well, your kid fucking deserved it!”

“Mr. Stilinski! Mr. Whittemore! _Please_ , let’s try to resolve this like civilized people.”

“I’m civilized,” Jackson declares, loudly and douchely. “The problem here is Stiles and his daughter. This is why omegas shouldn’t have kids with betas you know, their-“

Stiles doesn’t even let him finish, just lunges for the glitter on the center of the table and pours it over Jackson Whittemore’s head; he goes for the tubes of paint next.

«»

“That- should I be worried for this child’s well-being?”

Erica shakes her head. “Jackson has been a douche since high school. I can assure you that I’ve never met anyone as dedicated to their kid as those two.”

Teacher shakes her head once. “Well, if it was an isolated incident I don’t understand why-“

“Oh it wasn’t. After that there was the um,” Erica turns to Allison snapping her fingers as she tries to remember.

“The field trip incident.”

“Ah yes, the field trip incident.”

«»

Derek had volunteered to chaperone a field trip to the local park, where kids were to pick up leaves and try to identify trees and whatnot.

Jacy had refused to let go of his hand and kept showing all of her friends her daddy, asking every single one of them if they’d like to pet his beard. Derek, because he’s a sucker, just let her.

Stiles thought it was adorable from where he had been walking along with the group, having taken his lunch hour to meet them there.

“But, neither of your daddies is an alpha,” one of the kid exclaims, shocked.

Jacy pats him on the head, patronizingly. She learned it from Lydia and it’s been a struggle to kick out that habit.

“You don’t need an alpha to make babies, silly.”

“Whoa,” the kid says, eyes wide. “That’s so cool.”

One of the teachers scurries over and guides the kid away. “Mr. Hale I’d appreciate if you didn’t let your daughter spread such rumors. It’s not good for-“

“Are you calling daddy a liar?” Jacy asks, little cheeks puffing up in anger.

“Your father is misleading y-“

“That’s the big word for liar!” she exclaims, and then crouches down and balls up a piece of mud, throwing it as hard as she can all over the teacher’s pants.

Everyone freezes for a couple of seconds before one of the kids lets out a mighty battle cry and an epic mud fight ensues.

It probably wouldn’t have counted as a strike on their record if Stiles and Derek hadn’t joined in at some point.

«»

“Ohmy, well-“

“And of course there was the cookies incident.”

“We don’t even know what happened.”

“Just that poor Helen and her cookies were never the same.”

«»

“How _the fuck_ dare?” Stiles gasps in shock as PTA Mom Helen folds her arms over her baby blue polo and smirks like she just did a combo on Candy Crush and passed a particularly difficult level.

Stiles looks over at Derek and he’s husband is so in tune with him he doesn’t even have to say anything.

Derek very calmly gets up, places both his hands under the table where Helen has displayed her usual burnt cookies and slowly flips it over while maintaining eye contact.

“ _And this is what we think of your fucking cookies Helen!”_ Stiles shouts before a teacher comes to intervene.

«»

The woman in front of them looks mildly terrified.

Allison bites her lip, suddenly remembering. “Aren’t you the teacher that’s going to be in charge of Jacy’s class when she moves to middles school?”

“Yes,” the woman squeaks.

Erica sends her a pitying look. “I’ll bring you cookies. And vodka. You’re gonna need it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had to

**Author's Note:**

> it's been thirty five years but here's the next one. come yell at me on [tumblr](http://crossroadswrite.tumblr.com)
> 
> i'm kidding don't yell at me. but i'll work faster if there are cookies and baby derek headcanons being supplied


End file.
